


Lost and Found

by Maura_Moo



Series: Kiss me [1]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Assault, Best Friends, Bisexual Jack Kelly, Blue Eyes, Brooklyn, Canon Autistic Character, Cora Armstrong is an idiot, Different types of kisses, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Families of Choice, Family, Fear, Friendship, Fuck Cannon, Graphic Violence, Hey look!, Home, How Do I Tag, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I could have lost you, I promise, I promise this ends happy, Jack Has Feelings, Jack kelly has so much trauma, Let Crutchie Say Fuck, Mentioned Les Jacobs, Mentions of Cancer, Minor Crutchie/Jack Kelly, Minor Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins, Not Canon Compliant, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Pining, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Racetrack Higgins is a good friend, Sad, Santa Fe, Separation Anxiety, This took me too long, Triggers, Tw:Abuse, after seize the day, beat up, cora gets sent to the refuge, cuteness, domestic Davey jacobs mention, dyslexic writer, good boy davey jacobs, it hurts, literally my heart hurts, regufe, spot conlon - Freeform, the poor gals head is spinning, the strike, tw:blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:14:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25055260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maura_Moo/pseuds/Maura_Moo
Summary: "I could have lost you"Cora gets taken away to the refuge instead of Crutchie. There is no letters from the refuge. If there was, it would have been signed in blood.I dont know how to summerise. Please read this.
Relationships: Davey Jacobs and original female character, David Jacobs/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Kiss me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815193
Comments: 28
Kudos: 15





	1. missing hearts and bleeding lips

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my friend Tilli](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my+friend+Tilli), [tillifer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tillifer/gifts).



> //TRIGGERS: beating, blood, abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, mentions of a young girl being attacked by a group of boys, handcuffs, suffocating, starvation mentions. 
> 
> There's more but please be careful darlings. Enjoy the writing. I love you all!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> //Cora had heard the nightmarish tales of the refuge from Jack. He had shown her emotionally the drawings of his memories and spluttered out between tears about the horrors that he had lived in at fifteen. Jack often spoke about his hardships to Cora, the fact he had watched his mother die, his younger brother be crushed under the wheels of a wagon and than the sea of starving children that became his new family, his new brothers, his new family. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: violence, arguments, pinning platonically, mentions of fear, panic attacks, rats, cockroaches, minor suffocation.

Cora had heard the nightmarish tales of the refuge from Jack. He had shown her emotionally the drawings of his memories and spluttered out between tears about the horrors that he had lived in at fifteen. Jack often spoke about his hardships to Cora, the fact he had watched his mother die, his younger brother be crushed under the wheels of a wagon and than the sea of starving children that became his new family, his new brothers.

She clearly remembered the painting that Jack had shoved into her hands the night after leaving Medda’s theatre. Of the boys squished together in tattered bunk beds. Even as she sat in the back of the police van she could smell the bitter urine, hear the scurrying of vermin that scratched and gnawed at the walls, feel the scurrying of cockroaches across her skin. It made her tremble and flinch against the rough metal handcuffs that rubbed at the already torn skin of her wrists. 

The air was thick and murky in the back of the wagon. If she breathed in too quickly, she could pick up on the hidden traces of cigar smoke. It made her think of Race. His face pictured slowly in the blurry darkness of her closed eyes. Racetrack was the first one to materialise, with a black eye and a bloodied nose but still his classic smile and cigar lingering crookedly between his teeth. 

He leads the other Newsies into her oxygen-deprived brain. They all stare at her in silent apology, with wide eyes and timid voices that begged for her forgiveness. She should be furious and maybe, deep down, locked away under fear and adrenaline, she was. She had been abandoned by the men that she called her brothers, her family. Even her best friend had turned and ran off without so much as a passing glance over his shoulder to see her be knocked out. 

She couldn’t be angry at them and she definitely couldn’t be cross at Davey. It wasn’t fair for her to be mad at him. He had a younger brother to protect and look after. He was only doing what his parents had always taught him- to protect his younger brother from the hardships of the world until he was old enough to understand them. 

Davey always did what he was told. Cora had told him to run, to grab Les and throw him over his shoulder and just sprint until he was as far away from The Worlds’ circulation gate as possible. 

That was the last thing she remembered before the sudden searing pain in the back of her head. The tearful yelling of Les demanding David to put him down so he could grab Cora’s hand and make her run with them. She hated that she had made him cry. She wondered if David had called out her name as she had been dragged away by Synder and the Delancey’s...Did Davey even get away?

Was Les tucked up safe and sound in his own bed, in his favourite pair of pyjamas with his teddy bear tucked safely in his arms?

Was Race walking through the darkened streets of Brooklyn hand-in-hand with Spot, talking absentmindedly about how wrong the strike went today? Was he gently bathing his wounds in the clean water of the East Stone Creek with Spot sitting next to him, bare feet dangling tiredly in the water? 

Was Jack sitting atop the rooftop paintbrush in hand and Crutchie cuddled up in his lap, watching how the paint moves gently through the bristles and onto the canvas? Was Crutchie slowly petting at Jack's legs and nuzzling his head into his chest as he watches eyes wide with wonder at his boyfriend’s talent?

Did Finch find his shoe or did Albert swindle a new pair out of one of the merchants that sit in the middle of town with puppy dog eyes and pouts? 

Did they even have enough money to eat tonight? Or are they sitting on their hands and knees begging and stealing bread? 

Tears forced her to open her eyes and she licked at her lips. Cora was used to the pains that came along with starving. The strong battle that came from her stomach fighting, gnawing, beating at its own acid. It made her feel sick. Her brain screamed at her to eat something, welling up the taste of her mother’s homemade soup and Mrs Jacobs’ apple pies and David’s sweet-fried vegetables. 

She used to love watching David cook. Sitting atop his kitchen table, eyes shining and bubbling with love for the boy with dough-sprinkled fingers and flour-covered cheeks. Cora begged into the musty, stale air that Davey was okay. That he had shed no tears over her. Through the thin slits of the paddy wagon window, Cora stared up at the dim moon and wondered if Davey was looking up at the same moon, thinking of her. She hoped he was, it calmed her. 

When the truck rolled finally to a stop, Cora looked away from the window and twisted her wrists in the handcuffs. The muscles yelled at her as she flexed her fingers and shifted her wrists and kneaded the palms of her hands into her knees. Fresh air flooded the back of the wagon as the doors were thrust open. She had never been happier to see Synder, growling down at her. 

The feeling of cold air filtering through her lungs was the best feeling. Her lungs scream in relief and her head spins and Cora had never thought so stupidly lucky. 

“Move, bitch.” Synder growls at her, grabbing and pulling her firmly up and out of the van before shoving her up the path. He drags her along like a stray dog and she flinches back, half in pain, half in hate. 

Protective fear pounded through her bloodstream as he walked her through the hallway, Cora tried to drag her body away from Synder, she will not lay down and go quietly. 

She had laid down for too long and she refused to again; not for Pulitzer, certainly not the cops and definitely not for Synder the spider. 

“I didn’ do nothin’ wrong! Youse lemme go!” She spat at her capture. Her furious anger only to be met with another furious blow to the back of her head. 

The next time she opens her eyes, there’s crushing pain in her chest and the smell of urine burning into her nostrils with every frantic inhale. Seventeen pairs of cold eyes stare down at her. She rocks onto her elbows and tucks her skirt securely between her legs. The crushing weight is from the eldest boy's boot being pressed dangerously rough into her sternum. 

She looks at him with bitterness and his brown eyes stare down at her coldly. For the first time that day, Cora felt scared. Scared of being in the Refuge alone, scared of being the only woman trapped in a sea full of men. The boys don’t bother introducing themselves, they simply chuckle at her and sneer as she growls. 

“So youse one’a dem Newsies huh? Who youse work for? Jack? Spot?” One of the background boys coos smugly. She rolls her head over to look at him. She surveys his grey gown and bitterly flirtatious green eyes and sour face. 

“Like Spot’s stupid enough to get involved in some stupid strike.” One of the blonds behind her squeaks out with a laugh. 

Cora bites back an insult and simply keeps quiet. If she talks back, there was the chance that the foot on her chest would shift. However, her silence seemed only to fuel the anger of the boy in front of her. He lifts his foot and before Cora can scamper away it collides with her chest, it’s hard enough to make her wail. 

Despite the crippling pain, she stood and stepped backwards slowly but there was no escape. The refuge boys circle her with animalistic intentions. Their eyes glimmer with the same feral glint of chaos that she saw in the eyes of her boys during the strike. 

She felt panic explode in her stomach. Every muscle in her body tensed and her oxygen depriving mind looped memories of the last attack. Her breathing faltered and spluttered out past her lips as sobs echoed against her own fear. She felt like her head was swimming and every thought was drowning in her own anxiety. She longed for the feeling to stop, to be grabbed and held until her ears stopped ringing and the feeling of her fingers came back. 

The first punch lands square on her jaw and it knocks her backwards against the crumbling wall. There’s a sickening thud as she collides with the concrete and Cora yells, her skin ripping like soaked paper. They beat her like a drum, quickly and furiously and with anything they can get their hands on; their feet, fists, thick planks of wood anything. 

The beatdown is a sick symphony; the woodwind of her whimpering breaths, the percussion of her breaking ribs, the brass knocking of their shoes against the hardwood floor. Her skin snaps like harp strings and the piece is crescendoed and ended by Synder’s booming voice ordering the boys into their bunks. 

Cora lays staring up at them through rapidly swelling eyes. It hurts too much and so she lays on the floor, punctuated by the light grey of the moon and the stark redness of her own blood. The snickering of the other people in the world dies down and Cora listens to the sounds of freedom.

She listens to the way the leaves on the tree rustles against the wind, whispering about the beatdown they had just done. Her ears pick up on a familiar face and her eyes open. “Cowboy!” she whispers, struggling to push herself up. With blurry vision she stares at the window and sighs, Jack is not at the window. He is not hovering by the window. It must have just been her mind playing tricks on her. 

Through pain and tiredness, her brain begins to close down and Cora isn’t sure if she’s falling asleep or dying. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t care. As her body shuts down she dreams of Santa Fe but not of the mountains and clay houses that Jack speaks so highly of. 

That night she dreamed of her Santa Fe- with his bright, bubbly blue eyes and crooked smiles and his heart of gold. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //preview: Davey didn’t even know why he got up for work this morning. He had barely slept and as he passed the hallway mirror he surveyed himself- the messy hair, the pale lips, the red eyes.


	2. Above the fold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions run high with the leaders of the newsboy union. That's it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Even the walk to work was pitifully quiet. Les stared up at his older brother with a frown on his face. “Dave?” he asks after hours of walking in silence. “You think Cora is okay?” 
> 
> “I don’t know Lesley. I don’t know.” Davids’s voice is flat and soulless. He should be excited but the bruises and heartache are still raw from yesterday.

Davey didn’t even know why he got up for work this morning. He had barely slept and as he passed the hallway mirror he surveyed himself- the messy hair, the pale lips, the red eyes. He doesn’t eat breakfast that morning. He pushes the food around his plate before sighing and leaving the table.

Even the walk to work was pitifully quiet. Les stared up at his older brother with a frown on his face. “Dave?” He asks after hours of walking in silence. “You think Cora is okay?”

“I don’t know Lesley. I don’t know.” David’s voice is flat and soulless. He should be excited but the bruises and heartache are still raw from yesterday. Les tugs himself under his arm before falling against his older brother's side. There was no supportive hug or comforting words or reassuring smiles just the heavy weight of Davey's arm pressing against the boy's shoulder. 

Les watches as Davey rubs circles against the rough fabric of his sling- despite staying away from all the danger, Les had been caught in the crossfire. Cora had dragged him away from being caught and every time his fingers throbbed or his arm tingled he thought about that flash of sudden fear in the girl’s eyes as she heard him beg for help, fighting against the Delancey’s grip. He remembered the desperation in her voice. How she looked at them both and yelled at them to sprint before standing with her eyes closed and back to her attackers. It was a mercy killing.

Every time Les closed his eyes he could see the clubbing blow of Synder’s batten and the scream that echoed in his ears as he watched her fall. He knew that it haunted Davey too. He had heard him tossing and turning during the night, crying silently into his pillow or shifting to stare at the moon through the gap in their curtains.

The two brothers just walk in silence into Jacobi’s Deli. There is no laughter or songs or the sound of Cora’s dancing footsteps. The Newsies sit silently, stewing in their pain and none of them turn to look up at the two brothers. They’re all staring at the floor or with their heads against the table. They all look as glum and heartbroken as Davey and Les felt. The two of them look at each other before Les walks off and sits on the floor.

David scans the sea of faces, staring at the sad eyes that stare hopelessly at the hardwood floor. At the trembling, sore hands that tap anxiously against the tables. At the battered bodies that lay like cadavers on the thick hardwood.

There is no trace of Cora, no shadow of her dancing with Race or playfully shoving Crutchies arm off her shoulders with a grin on her face. There’s just dead, empty silence and the floorboards creak under his feet as he slinks to the furthest chair at the back of the deli.

The room once again falls into a muffled silence before the door clicks open again.

“Awe c’mon why the glum faces huh guys?” Jack asks, rolling a piece of chewing gum around his mouth with his tongue. He seems so much better than the other Newsies. Davey watches as he saunters in with a black eye and the same cocky smirk plastered against his lips, he then turns to Romeo who dabs at the cut on his forehead. While the others were knocked nearly unconscious or sat still sore from the beatdown the day before. Jack ambles in with a black eye and confidence.

Jack Kelly, the man who had told them all that he loved them, had abandoned the boys that saw him as a brother, a leader, a father figure, a lover. He had tucked his tail between his legs and left at the first sign of danger.

“Why the fuck do you think we’re all so unhappy Jack?!” David spits out after watching Race try to stumble out a quick lying reply to Jack’s question. He looks up from burning a hole in the floor and turns his head slowly to face Jack. The unusual grimmer of stormy anger in his eyes makes Racetrack step backwards, sitting once again on the corner of the table. He knows better than to get in peoples way when they have that look in their eyes- the look of hurt and anger and fear and grief.

“What?” Jack splits out, anger bubbling in his words.

The way David stalks up to Jack terrifies the other Newsies. They jump as he grabs a hold of his collar and pins him against the door. “We trusted you!” Jack cocks a confused eyebrow and Davey feels exasperation bubbling in his chest.

“ _We_ all trusted you yesterday! And now _look_ at us!” He released a hand and waved at the Newsies, fingers jabbing at the. Jack gives a pointed look over to the silent spectators and they shrug before Crutchie points to the space between him and Race and Jack nods the best he can with David’s hands around his throat.

“They all trusted you yesterday! I trusted you yesterday! I put faith in you! _Cora_ put faith in you! And what did you do as soon as things got slightly too difficult?! You ran! You ran and let all of us take the blows! We’re meant to family Jack! Does that mean nothing to you?!” His fists smack into Jack’s chest with a sickening thud. “Cora trusted you, Jack! She _screamed_ for you! She _begged_ for you! She _cried_ for you to help her because she loves you like another brother! Is this how you treat your family Jack?! Like we’re some fucking playthings to do your bidding while you run away and paint pictures of places that you’ll never go because you’re too self-centred and egotistical to even leave behind the place where people know your name! You are a traitor Jack. A damn traitor-!”

The tugging on his shirt sleeve drags Davey out of his spew of angry betrayal “David?” His little brother’s voice is soft and strangled by tears. By the time Davey looks away from Jack and down towards Les, there’s another wave of tears in the child's brown eyes. Davey swallows and lets his arms drop and watches silently as Jack scampers away over to his boyfriend.

His weight shifts awkwardly from foot to foot before he kneels and grasps his brother by his shoulders. Davey is no longer angry, not at Jack anyway. He presses a kiss to the middle of Les’ forehead. “I should have saved you. Not her. I should be in that refuge. I could handle it”

Les pulls his brother into a hug and wraps his arm securely around him and buries his face into the crook of his neck. Davey sighs, resting his hand gently on the small of his little brother’s back. There’s silence as Davey rocks the two of them before Les whispers “Cora wouldn’t us fighting would she?”

There are another few beats of silence before Davey’s choked sobs echo against his little brother's shoulder. Les tries his best to settle his big brother's wails, rubbing his back with the only free arm he has. They seem to go on for forever and Les feels awkwardly bashful comforting Dave as he sobs onto his shoulder. He doesn’t understand what the refuge is or why everyone is so worried. He knows that Cora is strong and talented and bold and fiery friendly and whatever the refuge was, Les is sure that she has already left it and on her way here, with her shoulders back proudly and lips pressed into a wide smile.

Les was sure that Cora was fine. He just needed everyone else to see that. The sudden shifting weight taps him softly out of his head and his brown eyes shift to watch his older brother stand and rub a hand furiously across his red eyes. “Dave?”

“Les. I’ll be back soon. I promise. You stay here okay?”

Les wants to retort, to argue back that he wants to come too but the look of sad desperation, of loss in his older brother’s eyes, tells him that he should just agree. He nods and smiles, when Davey smiles back Les’ face explodes with a toothy grin that makes David chuckle and ruffles his hair under his hat.

And with that, Davey straightens his vest and leaves the deli. The door slamming closed behind him.

“So where youse brodda gonna go huh?” Jack slurs out to Les as he rubs at his neck. He would never have expected Davey to be the one to snap. He brushes away Crutchie’s concern with a quick kiss on the head and pulls himself up onto the table. When Les shrugs, Jack furrows his eyebrows and sighs, laying his head against Crutchie’s while he plays with his fingers.

“Why the glum faces?” Kathrine asks moments later when she walks in and the Newsies chuckle bitterly before Les casts his arm over the sea of sad boys as if he was revealing some sort of terrible magic act. “These don't look like the chipper faces of people who are above the fold.”

The boys all look up in unison and run towards her, eager to look at their faces in the paper. Everything that had just happened seems to be forgotten as they snatch and point and laugh alongside each other. Although the strike had failed, there every Newsie sat printed in ink, smiling proudly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> // preview: The quiet echo of the bustling New York streets bounced behind Davey. He listened to the way that the families and couples darted through the labyrinthian streets happy to go on with their day. Children were still out selling papers like the strike never happened. He knew why, if they didn't sell papes, their folks didn't eat or they didn't sleep safely.


	3. where better to escape trouble than the theatre?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> //Medda saves the day. With favours to call in and her aptitude there's no stopping her when she hears whats happened past the headlines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //The quiet echo of the bustling New York streets bounced behind Davey. He listened to the way that the families and couples darted through the labyrinthian streets happy to go on with their day. Children were still out selling papers like the strike never happened. He knew why, if they didnt sell papes, their folks didn't eat or they didn't sleep safely. 
> 
> Davey couldn't picture how out of place he looked staring at the large double doors of Medda Larkins burlesque theatre. With his flat cap and bruised face he was a stark contrast from the upper class men that wandered through the doors with dollars.

The quiet echo of the bustling New York streets bounced behind Davey. He listened to the way that the families and couples darted through the labyrinthian streets happy to go on with their day. Children were still out selling papers like the strike never happened. He knew why, if they didn't sell papes, their folks didn't eat or they didn't sleep safely.

Davey couldn't picture how out of place he looked staring at the large double doors of Medda Larkins burlesque theatre. With his flat cap and bruised face, he was a stark contrast from the upper-class men that wandered through the doors with dollars.

With David's two dimes, he couldn't stroll into the theatre and buy a ticket or settle between the other spectators and watch, silently begging that she picks his face out in the crowd. The cogs in his brain whirled slowly and it wasn’t long before he had ducked into the alleyway and clambered into the theatre through an open window. He fell with a dull thud and a whine, he kneels against the floor for a few seconds, waiting to hear footsteps of other workers but when David is met with the silence he stands and slinks through.

He's careful as he walks through the other people, trying his best to become a background face in between the other dancers. With its rousing music and big personalities, Davey felt out of place, his eyes stayed transfixed on the floor as he walked, only looking up when he hears Medda’s voice belting gently in the distance. His cheeks flushed as he stopped and hovered awkwardly in the wings.

Davey listens to her talk to Emcee and shifts his weight from foot to foot while he waits. It takes seconds for her to look over her shoulder. From the way she grins and throws her arms up in the air, she recognises his doe eyes and soft smile. “David, my dear boy- oh sweetheart-” she tugs herself out of the hug and presses her thumb against the bruise that filters its way onto his cheek.

When Davey hisses and shrugs her away, Medda smiles apologetically before taking both his hands in hers. “What brings you here alone Davey?”

What did bring Davey here? He wasn't sure. After what had happened at the Deli, his body and brain were on autopilot. He blinks at her cluelessly before furrowing his eyebrows. “I don’t know” he admits after a few silent seconds. He hears Medda sigh and feels her bring him into another rich, loving hug.

“T-the strike went wrong yesterday...w-we were brutalised and-”

“Shh Davey shh” she rubs his back and David furrows his eyebrows in confusion before rubbing at his face. He’s surprised when he sees tears sparkling against the bright neon lights of the theatre. They shine like clear diamonds before running off his finger and into the thin fabric of her clothes. Once he registers the tears that are burning at his eyes, he is powerless to stop them.

He sobs. The tight knot of fear, guilt and self-disgust untangles slowly as he speaks her through everything that happened. He lingers on the way Cora had tried hard to fight back when Oscar grabbed a hold of her wrists, how her bare feet left bloodied marks against the concrete as Synder tossed her from arm to arm like a rag doll. Davey told her about how painful it was to relive the same moment over and over again, to linger on the way she had screamed his name before shoving a fearful Les forwards. He told her about the tears on his little brother's voice and the way he had squirmed to fight against the adults that were taking her.

Medda listens to the young boy cry on her shoulder. Unsure of what to say, she tightens her grip on his vest and rocks from side to side in hopes to calm him. The images that David was describing made her stomach twist with irate displeasure. A plan forms in her head as she hears Davey’s pain-filled cries soften to gentle sniffles. “It's okay. Lemme make a phone call. You go back to the Deli sweetheart” she runs a hand through his hair before straightening his cap and rubbing her thumb across the valley of his nose gently removing any leftover tears.

“I don't think I can go back to the deli. I don't think the guys want me back there no more” he shrugs sadly and shrinks away from the confused glare. “I fought with Jack.”

He can't help but chuckle when Medda waves her arm dismissively “when you’ve known Jack Kelly as long as I have Davey, you learn that he and the others hold grudges about as well as a fork holds soup” that makes him laugh, hands flapping softly as his sides like birds wings as he does so.

Satisfied that Davey will be going back happy, Medda shoos him off the stage and she walks off to her office snatching the phone off the receiver. She presses in a number and presses the phone to her ear. It rings twice before the voice on the other end opens.

“Ah, It's Medda. Medda Larkin. I have a favour that I need to call in...yes...twenty minutes..perfect.”

Davey walks away from the theatre and ducks back through the streets of New York. Its a short walk but the thumping of his heart rate made it feel a lot longer. While he stepped awkwardly through the streets, his mind raced with words. They flew like bullets through his mind and landed, splattering bloody paragraphs in his brain. When he finally reaches the door, David knows what he is going to say and how he’s going to say it.

He rubs his sweaty hands down the front of his vest before sighing and pushing open the door. He’s met with pairs of surprisingly calm eyes. They smile at him as he sinks through the table and chairs before sitting down silently. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth, lips suddenly slamming shut when Jack stood and walked his way over to him.

Every muscle in David’s body braced for a punch or a kick or at least some sort of verbal assault but nothing came. There was no thud of his fist against his cheek, no sudden explosive gush of blood from his nose. Nothing bar silence and Jack’s dopey smile. Hesitantly Davey smiles back, relieved when Jack throws an arm around his shoulders.

The silence is comfortable now as Davey hugs him back “hey guess what!” Les squeals out after snatching the newspaper out of Finch’s hands “we made the pape!”

“We what?” Davey steals the paper from his brother and furrows his eyebrows at first in confusion before his face explodes in happy surprise. “We made the pape!”

“Yeah! You made above the fold” Davey’s chair squeaks as he turns to look at Kathrine, her face is flushed and her lips are pressed into a joyful smile and it radiates a warmth that mimics Cora's. There's a bittersweet feeling in his stomach when he sees Kathrine tilt her head back proudly as she talks about her story being the only one that ran. “Its the only thing we’re gonna get for a long time. Pulitzers declared a blackout on strike news.”

“So there's not gonna be anymore strike news published?” Davey echoes the young women's final statement with an eye roll and a sigh. “That's jus-”

“Its bullshit Davey. It's bullshit” Kathrine agrees with her statement and by the mumbles and nods, the newsies agreed with her as well.

Davey nods and shifts his weight in the chair, looking down at the paper again. He scans the happy, cheeky grins and the bright bold eyes and heaving chest. The entire picture radiates revolution and change and in the middle of the group is Cora with Les on her shoulders and her hand pressed firmly in his.

If Davey stared for long enough, her face merged into the background with the rest of the boys. The way she has settled in so quickly makes him smile.

“We miss her too Dave.” Les crawls into his brother's lap and squeezes his arm around his midsection. “But she’ll be home soon.”

“I know Les.”

Jack looks over to the brothers and sniffs. “‘Ere Davey. Why do you smell like the theatre?”

Davey tips his head backwards and raises his eyebrows playfully. “No reason” he hums out before picking his little brother up and handing the paper back over to Race. “we should be getting home. Our folks’ll be waitin’”

With a quick wave from Davey and a tired one from Les, the Jacobs brothers walk out of the deli and back home. It's a lot different than in the morning. They hop from sunbeam to sunbeam on the sidewalk and they talk like they normally do when Cora is there. Les can feel the happiness radiating off his brother and it makes him smile. The smile only gets wider when he hugs him close and tells him that he loves him.

That night Davey eats for the first time since he joined the newsies and curls up in bed and sleeps. There's no gentle sobs or furious kicking in his sleep. He just wraps his blanket around him and closes his eyes and just drifts away with a smile on his lips and drool pooling on his pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //preview: Cora is surprised when Synder opens the door. She’s still sitting on the floor picking at the dry blood that sits under her nails. He grabs at her shoulder and drags her into a standing position. When he’s met by coldness instead of fear he clicks his tongue against his teeth and pushes her forward. “So you’re leaving now” 
> 
> “Took ya fuckin lon’ enough” she snaps back, still picking at her nails.


	4. You have been found.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> //This is it, the very last chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> // tw: there's a big mention of injuries so warning for blood and bruises and cuts. also a mention of needles. 
> 
> Cora is surprised when Synder opens the door. She’s still sitting on the floor picking at the dry blood that sits under her nails. He grabs at her shoulder and drags her into a standing position. When he’s met by coldness instead of fear he clicks his tongue against his teeth and pushes her forward. “So you’re leaving now” 
> 
> “Took ya fuckin lon’ enough” she snaps back, still picking at her nails. “Bye boys'' she waves at her attackers before flipping them the middle finger. Syder marches her through the corridors and Cora’s eyes flit through the dimly lit corridors to the twisted face of the man that leads her through them. Despite him holding onto her wrist, Cora had never felt freer.

Cora is surprised when Synder opens the door. She’s still sitting on the floor picking at the dry blood that sits under her nails. He grabs at her shoulder and drags her into a standing position. When he’s met by coldness instead of fear he clicks his tongue against his teeth and pushes her forward. “So you’re leaving now” 

“Took ya fuckin lon’ enough” she snaps back, still picking at her nails. “Bye boys'' she waves at her attackers before flipping them the middle finger. Syder marches her through the corridors and Cora’s eyes flit through the dimly lit corridors to the twisted face of the man that leads her through them. Despite him holding onto her wrist, Cora had never felt freer. 

The floor is cold against her toes and it stabs at her feet like needles. She tugs her feet up as she walks, whimpering as her sore muscles yell at her for moving too quickly. A pool of murky water is when she first sees the extent of the daily beatdowns. 

Dried blood pools at her lips and stains her forehead. A slew of multicoloured bruises fan out across her face and it reminds Cora of the flocks of birds that Jack chases away from his paintings. They spread and clutter against the white clouds of her skin. Her tongue runs across her lips whimpering when it ducks into rivers of unshed blood. It tastes sour on her tongue and she spits at the metallic taste. Rails of cuts and grazes spread out against her skin. Her ribs rub together like dry firewood and they sparked sending furious embers of pain searing through every inch of her body with every inhale. Her once long blonde hair lays against her sore shoulders in knotted red-orange clumps. 

The double doors swing open and Cora raises her arm to block out the sun. Its sudden light blinds her temporarily and she stands blinking and sunning herself in the early morning sunlight. The doors slam closed behind her and suddenly Cora is alone. Alone, hurt, scared. 

But free. 

Her arms drop and she just stands there and breaths. Slowly, in and out. The feeling of clean air brushing into her nose and filtering through the pain and into her lungs. It feels like nothing she had ever thought before. It stains her blood filled nostrils and calms whatever anxieties had bubbled into her stomach. A blurry figure appeared in her eyeline and her thin, squinting eyes suddenly opened wider. She's relieved to see another female staring back at her with a shocked expression plastered on her face. “Medda! You-!” the words stick in her throat and her voice breaks as bittersweet tears fill her eyes. She watches as Medda sashays towards her and wraps a friendly arm gently around her shoulders

Cora flinches at first, the gentle way that medda lays her arm against her shoulder is so starkly different from what she had gotten used to. No one had hugged her in so long that it felt so foreign. But soon enough the fear in her muscles melts away and she wraps her arms around Medda and squeezes her tightly. Pain lashes at her body and she quickly cowers away with a yelp. “Oh, baby what did they do to you?” 

“Nothin’ I couldn’ handle Mrs Medda” Cora responds with the safe air of confidence she has whenever she comes home scuffled and dirty. She smiles up at the women and squints against the sunlight. Sweat mixes with the dry blood that stains her forehead, Cora had forgotten just how warm the outside world was in mid-July. she had forgotten a lot. 

What it was like to sleep in a bed with a blanket and the warmth of someone safe sleeping next to her, the sound of Jack’s voice floating through the open window on the cool summer breeze, The gentle echo of Race’s foot as he tapped away while counting cards, the feeling of Crutchie’s arms thrown around her shoulder as they dance around the small living room together, The sight of Les playfully beating up his big brother while he read. 

David was the only face that didn’t leave her during the refuge. He stayed firm and strong. The loop of his voice was the only gentle music that floated through her head during the long, sleepless nights on the floor. “How’d youse know I was here Mrs Medda?” 

“Someone swung by the theatre and told me.” Medda holds her hand out to Cora and nods down at her leg “you're gonna need some help walking with that sweetheart.” for the first time, Cora looks down and gasps. Her leg is scattered in rough, blood-filled bruises and her ankle has rolled slightly to the side. With a sigh, Cora allows Medda to wrap an arm around her before picking her up. As they walk, Cora lays her head against her chest, just happy to feel the warmth of another person and the softness of a heartbeat. 

The blonde watches over the women's shoulder as the refuge slowly sinks into the background. The place that had been her home for three weeks melted slowly away but the memories still stuck, the beatings still hurt and the nightmares will still affect her, it's only when mirage of the refuge has fully disappeared into the humidity of the July heat, does it sink into Cora’s mind that she's going home. All the things she has missed, all the people whose faces no longer matched with names were going to appear again in her life. 

She would finally have control over her life again. There are tears as the faces of her friends merge forwards through the fog in her pounding head. She remembers her mother with her short stature and doughlike face. She remembers her little brother and Les playing with their wooden swords in the backyard, her and Davey sitting in each others company reading silently. 

The two women walk in a comforting silence and soon they arrive at the theatre and once medda pushes the door open, she places Cora carefully on the floor. It's almost magical to feel the fabric of the carpet between her toes. The floor is warm and the way it moulds around her feet feels like she's being dragged down into a safer place, a more comforting place. The one place she longs to be. 

The warmth of the carpet reminds her of the warmth that bubbles in her chest whenever she catches David's eye from across the room. It's always the same, he glances away from the words in his book and his eyes seem to bloom as he stares at her. They’d blink at each other for a few moments before his face softens into a gentle smile that would always make her smile back. His smile made her feel like she could fly. 

She had fallen in love with Davey’s eyes when she was nine. He had walked into school wearing a white shirt with beige pants and a vest. His eyes seemed to stand out, shining like sapphires against the neural colours. They shone like a thousand different hues of blue were mixed and dipped perfectly creating the colour that was so unfathomably deep but warm. David Jacobs eyes paled the sun and took all wonder out of the sea. 

Even as they grew up, his eyes did not change, they grew brighter and shone with determination. In his eyes, she could do no crime, no matter how hard she tried. His heart shone in the blue of his eyes and every time Cora would look at him, she’d drown further into the deepness of his eyes. 

“Cora sweetheart? You zoned out are you okay?” Medda presses her hand against her cheek and releases a breath when Cora turns and nods before looking up as movement startles her. 

“Cora this is Teddy Roosevelt” Medd mentioned, gesturing out to the man that stood in front of the two women. Cora smiles and waves spellbound. 

“Jack escaped on the back of your coach!” she squeals out, hands pressed to her face. “Hello! I-I promise I don't’ normally look likes I jus’ been soaked- I were in da refuge and-” 

“He’s the one who got you out sweetheart. He’s gonna help with the strike as well, talking of the strike. We should be getting you cleaned up. Come, come” Medda takes Cora once again by the hand and scoops her up and carries her into the bathroom. 

She stands awkward and naked in the theatre bathroom. The large mirror reflects the crime scene that was her body. Blood and bruises lay fanned out across the body like paint splatter against the thin canvas of her skin. It stains her with reds and purples and yellows and browns. Large purple bruises highlight the curves of her ribs and she stares at the red pool that lay on her thighs and legs. The blood is now black and sticky and Cora feels every bruise and every aching muscle as she limps over to the tub and sinks into the warm water. 

The water is scalding at first and it burns at her skin but the feeling is nice and soon her muscles begin to loosen and the water slowly begins to lace with the dry flakes of blood, they remind Cora of the snowflakes that stick against the thin glass of the lodgings window every winter. It feels like forever but soon the smells, tastes and sights of the refuge are scrubbed off her skin. 

Quickly she washes and scrubs the blood out of her clothes and gently slides them back after she dries her body. Although breathing hurts Cora takes a deep breath and laces her hair up before limping out and once again taking Medda’s hand. “Youse waited for me?” 

“Well yeah. I dunno what I would do if something were to happen to you sweetheart” Medda tells her as they walk back. She's happy to see Cora back to her normal self; she stands a little taller and her eyes are once again a bright green forest harbouring the hungry stare of rebellion and excitement. “I have a spare crutch left over from a performance. You can use it, sweetheart.” 

It's then a short but rather painful twenty minutes as Cora comes to grips with spreading her weight against the hardwood and adjusts to the pressure under her arm. It doesn't take very long before Cora is bouncing along with reckless abandon and excitement. 

With her pain muted with adrenaline, the young girl gives Medda another hug before hobbling back to the circulation gate. People stare at her as she walks but she ignores their prying eyes and sensitive whispers, no matter how rough she looked, she was still a Newsie. She had to support her friends and fight for the cause. If the strike failed again, her friends and family would starve for another night and she would not let that happen. Not again. 

  
There's a low hum as the Newsies sing and it spurs Cora’s heavy, lumbering footfall through the streets. Her heart beats in time to their voices and despite every breath pounding through her system like a pain-filled steam train, she simply narrows her eyes and charges forwards. Soon the pain is numbed by her desire for change. The voices get louder and she can slowly start to pick out some of her closest friends from the hum of anarchy. 

Soon the large painted gates of the world stare at her through a sea of browns and blacks and greys. Every newsie from New York has crowded into the world, singing in revolution. Their voices rise like angry tides and smash against the rocks of Pulitzer’s windows. 

She pauses just shy of the outskirts of the group, eyes bouncing through the crowd, she spots Race leaning against the wall, eyes transfixed on the sea of singing Newsies. Finch has his slingshot poised at the window while Albert seems to be talking him out of it. Through the window, she can see Jack, Kathrine, Spot and Pulitzer gazing down at them. If she squinted hard enough, she could see the fear in their bosses' eyes. 

“Dere ain’t a chance in hell he's gonna beat alla us!” she tells herself before hobbling in and carefully pushing herself through the people before she's standing at the front of the group. Closer to the window she spots Davey in the office, hand resting on Jack’s shoulder. He seems to not have noticed the newest battered face in the sea of many. 

Her voice matches instantly in with the others. With one final breath she belts out alongside the other Newsies, a few turn to look at the new voice and soon there's boys jabbing each other in the sides, arms, anything to grab the attention of the person next to them. Soon there's more movement further back and Cora comes face to face with Crutchie. His eyes flash with shock, then fear and finally relief before he finally stares “what the fuck happened to you Cor’?” he asks, shouting over the other Newsies. He seems to not notice her crutch until she playfully wacks his. 

“Nothing I couldn’ cope with,” she tells him with another gentle smile. They stand in silence for a few seconds as they just stare, soaking each other in. It’s been two weeks since the two friends had seen each other, but for them both, it had felt like an eternity. “So-...” 

There's a dull thump as Crutchie tumbles into her arms for a hug. Still rather unsteady on her feet, she stumbles backwards and sways against the newsie standing next to her. He huffs before helping her regain her equilibrium, the hug makes Cora feel weird, like someone had just lit a dim candle in her stomach and the flames of warmth and respect are lapping at the insides of her stomach. Her eyes are vacant for a few seconds as she judges if it's safe to hug him back before she wraps her left arm around him and she just holds her friend, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. 

“We’ve missed you-” he says, finally pulling away and using his sleeve as a rag to wipe his eyes. “Davey and Les have been worried sick about you and Racer hasn’t slept and even Finch has been firing at the trashcans during the night because you’ve not been here, Jack-” 

“Charlie. You're rambling again. It's okay. I’m home. I’m safe. A coupla broke ribs, few cuts ‘n’ bruises but dat’ll heal.” She cups the younger boy's cheek and pats it gently. “Now, ain’ wes gotta strike to win?” 

And with that, they both turn and filter back in line just to wave at Pulitzer’s and their friends. Crutchie waves his crutch in the air, using Cora as a balance beam. It takes her seconds before she realises whose attention he’s trying to get. 

Their eyes widen when they finally land on Cora and she tips her hat up at her friends. Just as soon as they had arrived at the window did they disappear. There's an awkward pause when they all walk out of the office and onto the balcony and Jack addresses them as one. 

They all hold their breaths as they try to read his face. “Newsies of New York….WE WON!” 

Cora throws her arms around Crutchie, forgetting just how hurt she was. Throughout the joyful screams and squeals, Cora whimpers and leans against the wall. Race sprints up to her and quickly surveys her before, with confirmation from Specs and Elmer, that she’s just winded. 

Brushes off the fuss she settles her crutch back under her arm and limps towards the balcony. Kathrine is the first one to reach the bottom of the ladder and she quickly throws a motherly arm around her shoulders. “Sweetheart, what happened? How hurt are you?” 

“Who hurt you?” Jack asks coldly. 

When Cora explains everything to the four of them, she spots the same look in their eyes- disgust, hurt, self-loathing, anger. It only takes a few moments for her to calm everyone down and soon enough she’s alone in the corner of the circulation station with Davey. “You shouldn't be selling papes beautiful” he whispers, taking her hand in his. 

She stares at him before turning to look over her shoulder as the other Newsies line up and the Brooklyn ones filter out of the world and away. “If I don't sell papes my folks don't eat. Neither does Oscar and he needs to eat” She picks at his fingers, lacing them together with hers. 

“Come over to ours for dinner. The entire family. Mom’s a great cook and with all the money Les and I brought in we have enough space for three extra people” 

“Youse never shut up do you?” she teases, gasping slightly when he lifts her arm and spins her around slightly. She stares into his eyes and smiles as she rests her hands on his hips. They had been in this position before, their lips had brushed gently against each other before tugging away nervously at the sound of a door opening. 

The two of them stare at each other “I missed you.” Davey's voice is low as she closes the space between the two of them, his hand running timidly up her arm, across her shoulder and neck before resting against her cheek. His hands are warm and comforting and Cora can't help but lean into his touch. It isn’t long before she's adrift in his eyes, a gentle breeze brushes past her lips, her eyes close slightly and the space between their lips before smaller and smaller until she can feel his warm breath on hers. “I can’t believe I could have lost you.” 

“You can't get rid of me David, I’m inevitable,” she whispers back before he closes the last inches of space. His lips brush against hers innocently before smiling and slowly sealing a kiss. It's slow at first, both of them slowly testing each other out before they settle into a rhythm. Her heart feels like its flooding and the soft fires of rebellion are now raging blazes of love and passion. 

Davey’s lips feel warm against her and she pulls at his vest to drag him closer. They lose themselves in the kiss and it's only when Jack coughs pointedly do they pull away slowly. With red cheeks, dilated pupils and soft giggles Cora and Davey take their papers and walk out of the circulation gate. 

The world has changed for Cora, alongside a few new scars, a few brand new fears and a few new horror stories to tell around Halloween she also has more money, her mother and brother have more food but more importantly, she has Davey. 

Cora has her Santa Fe and she no longer has to close her eyes to dream of him. He’s always there and never leaves. With her extra money, she buys Jack and Crutchie train tickets to see Santa Fe but Jack simply declines and presses the coins she had spent back into the palm of her hand. 

“Im happy here, like you I have my Santa Fe right here” 

They shared a hug and a few weeks later Cora is off the crutch and back out selling papers with her friends. She sings with Race on the rooftops and paints with Jack in Medda’s theatre. She regularly visits Brooklyn and settles with Race and Spot, swimming with them both in East Stone Creek, she causes trouble with Finch and spends a lot of time listening to Les read her stories and sits on Kathrine’s lap and writes with her. 

The world is a lot better because every night she falls asleep in the arms of the person she adores and dreams of the future they have together, she knows that them selling papers will not be forever and soon Davey and Les will go back to school and the others will grow up and new boys and girls will filter in while the older ones filter out. 

But that's the future and the future isn't something that can be controlled or changed so she focuses on right now. 

And right now Davey is asleep next to her, blanket wrapped around them both and face buried into her hair.

At this one moment, Cora is happy. There are no more horror stories of the refuge, there's no more Snyder. 

There’s just her, her family, her friends and her David Jacobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //And that's just it. That's the end. There is no more for Lost and Found. This one prompt ("I nearly lost you kiss" turned into an 18-page book that took me three? maybe four days to write. 
> 
> And I loved every single second of it. 
> 
> expect more prompt-based writings soon because they're too adorable to not write. 
> 
> Don't forget to leave kudos, share, subscribe and comment becasue I worked really hard on this and I actually really love it and I hope you did too
> 
> I love you all x

**Author's Note:**

> //hey so I really hope you like this. I really dont know how to do anything like tag and I just wanna tell you that I value each and every one of you guys and im always here for you no matter what. Just gimme a message or comment. 
> 
> If you like this, don't forget to share, comment, subscribe, leave kudos whatever you wanna do. I don't know. I don't mind. 
> 
> Just look after yourself and know you're doing great things.


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